Three More Problems to Deal With
by Grey Blade
Summary: Vexen doesn't get the respect he wants...so he plots dun, dun, duuun but when an interference makes his experiment go horribly wrong, Vexen finds he has to take care of the British version of the Powerpuff girls. Rated for any language that may occur
1. Prologue

**Muhahahahahahaha!!!! Crackfics!!! You just HAVE to love them...I got this idea while talking to Mo...Prologue's not that funny, meant to be that way...wait for later chapter to be updated...**

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**Prologue:**

Vexen fumed as he stomped through the clear ivory white, marble hallway. His robes, once a silky charcoal black, was now a multicolored collage of ketchup, feathers, pickles (courtesy of Zexion) , and any other vile solid or liquid he could find in the "Kitchen that Never was". And in more than one place, the cloth was singed; burned either by Larxene's lightning or Axel's flames.

They wouldn't listen. Really, they wouldn't. All he wanted was to warn them of the mess they'd make. All he did was to keep them from trouble from, well, themselves, not to mention the Superior's fury. And yet, _he _was the victimized one. He had to sit through a humiliating lecture on cleanliness and how to follow the month's objective: **Cleanliness is next to ****Bacon**, which he would like to follow but he thought the bacon part was nothing more than ludicrous nonsense. He had to sit down, along with the others, with the bits of food and sprays of liquids squirming into his skin through the holes in his robes, while listening to agonizing session from Superior.

He got the heaviest of the lecturing bunk, just because he was the oldest. And it wasn't even his fault. Zexion can be spared, except for the homemade pickles, but the others. He just scorned them, despised them. All they did was laugh at his face along with a generous squirt of mayonnaise aimed at it. Why couldn't they respect him? Well, he'd teach them!

"I'll show them…I'll show them all," he mumbled darkly as he opened the black, bronze, double doors on the left.

He descended down the spiral staircase, the only noise made was the _woosh_ of the wind as his black robes flapped around him and the squirm of the dollops and sludge on his front. His hands were on the polished, black banister, twitching in anticipation. He had a plan. A plan to wrench the respect the eldest member wanted from the young, right off their chests.

To make the perfect batch of homemade cookies.

He could just scream into the air, with his head thrown back and his fingers hooked, as if to clutch the air around him, laughing, "muhahahahaha!" It was perfect!!! Better than Zexion's pickles, too. He'd each give one of the Organization XII members a small bite off them, and then they'd be begging for more, and he wouldn't give them squat. That will send them to their knees bawling. And in time, praising and glorifying him, patronizing him to get what they wanted and finally, respect him. He might even score points with the Superior. He loved it, simply loved it. There was no hole in his plan, nothing could backfire. His perfect cookie plan was just that, perfect!

He reached the last step and eyed his environment, the closest thing he called home. Heaps of books, stacked in every corner you'd look at towered even over one and a-half of him, arrays of knives and other tools lay neatly on cloths and apparatuses all sat, ready , on the metal tables. His laboratory, his comfort zone.

He smirked a bit evilly, as he stroked a large cauldron with smoke streaming out. Everything would be perfect. Nothing could go wrong.


	2. Vexen's Greatest Inventions

**I'm feeling generous today...I'm going to post two chapters in a day, that's it. I'm not going to post the two other chaps I've finished so far**

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_Sugar…_

The ingredients, of course, would be different. But that was it. There was no doubt that everything else would be as familiar to him as if he were making a replica, not a batch of pastries. What was cooking after all, but science in the kitchen (that never was)? He grabbed a bag of white sugar, and poured half of it into the steaming cauldron.

_Spice…_

He eyed a few spices in the glass cabinet next to him. He was originally supposed to use them for herbal experiments but now was the perfect time to add a bit of their fiery taste in his cookies. Axel would love _that._

_And everything nice…_

Hmmm, what to put, what to put… He really didn't have any time to go upstairs to the Kitchen that Never Was to get the recipe book, and he really, really, _really_ wasn't in the mood to ask from one of them on advice on how to make cookies. He'd just have to improvise. Well, to create the perfect taste, he'd need to know what exactly cookies were made off, then make a few adjustments to make them better, but as said before, he need to know the rest of the ingredients to do that, so he had to risk some of his improvisations on the first trial. Then he'd adjust on the rest of the trials until he got what he wanted.

Well, might as well start with sodium chloride. Most of the recipes he's seen included salt. And what about ice? He liked ice. He could put ice. And rum. Not a big fan, himself, but Luxord would be a sucker for it. How about tea, he liked tea, better than rum.

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And books are nice. Might as well put them in. And metal, too. And what about silicon? And flowers, and scalpels, and reptile flesh, and Nobody munny, and gold, and diamonds, and unicorn hair (wtf), and spring water, and foot meshes, and more flowers…..

_These were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect batch of cookies…_

Muhahahahahahahahaha!!!!! Everyone will bow down to him! HIM! VEXEN!!! His cookies will soon rule the WORLD!!!! Everything will be perfect, brought by his PERFECT COOOOOOOOOOKIES!!!!!!

_But professor…Vexen…added an extra ingredient to the concoction…_

Vexen stretched his white arms. He needed a break. Only a few minutes, of course. You really wouldn't know what would happen if you left an "experiment" alone for too long. He looked at the single pot placed on one of the metal tables. He didn't think this was right. He was certain that cookie dough mixes weren't supposed to bubble with a blue tinge and a purple hue. But still, he needed a break after all that mixing with his arms stiff (like how the real professor mixes). He was still wondering about that weird movement of his, but not now. He needed to walk around for a bit. Even it was just the interior of the bathroom….

Eyeing the mixture one last time, he left with a swoosh of his robe in his trail.

_…__Chemical X_

"Oh Veeeeeeeeexen……." Luxord sang as he poked his head around the corner of the stairwell. "Marly wanted his nail polish back and was asking if you had it."

He turned his head this way and that, scanning the whole of the Icy Academic's lab. There was nothing. "Vexen?" he asked nothing in particular. The only answer he got was the echo of his voice bouncing off the walls.

Guess nobody was home. He daintily stepped onto the glass-like floor; dangerous thing to do, going inside Vexen's lab, but he could maybe find Marluxia's damn nail polish here, just to get Flower Power off of his back.

"Is that rum?" He inquired, sniffing the air. The heavenly scent was so feint, so subtle, hidden underneath dozens of other smells it would've been impossible to trace with the ordinary nose, but Luxord was a bloodhound when it came to rum.

He followed his nose right to one of the four tables, the farthest right beside the elegant glass cabinet. On top of it sat a big pot of…something. He was no scientist. All he knew that it was purplish blue, bubbly, steaming and had rum in it. Yum.

He took a ladle lying on the next table and dipped it in the concoction. Maybe Vexen was making some new kind of rum; he, the rum expert, might as well test it. He took out the ladle, which was steaming now and put the lot in his mouth...and abruptly took it out. Blech! Disgusting. Poor old duck couldn't make rum to save his life.

He dropped the ladle, still holding the blue liquid thing, in the cauldron, not really caring whether it had his saliva or not. The attempted liquor was already ruined; his dribble wouldn't make any difference.

He went back up the spiral staircase, disgusted. He'll just have to look for Marly's nail polish elsewhere.

He failed to notice, however, that the blue mixture was bubbling and steaming more than usual.

_And thus…_

Vexen ran back into his lab, his robes and hair flailing randomly behind him. He smelled it almost instantly. Some kind of odor had wafted in to the bathroom. A burning stench, but also a mixture of water carrying electrolytes, mucus, antibacterial, and enzymes: spit? No, that can't be. If he by some miracle put saliva in his cookie mix, he'd remember.

He saw the unstable blend as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom far in the back. What the hell? What happened? It was bubbling uncontrollably, froth was spilling over the sides, and steam had reached the high ceiling. It lost its purplish blue color now. It was a complicated, multicolored blend of red, blue, green and black. He stood in front of the cauldron, frustrated. His hands were on the table, his fists clutching the edges. He was trying to figure out the explanation for this, but he couldn't find any. Everything he put in was properly sterilized; even if his saliva had dropped onto the ingredients, they would've already been gotten rid off.

But before he could think of an explanation, the bubbling mixture burst in his face, throwing him right into the wall.

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He blinked his eyes open. Only a few seconds had passed, he knew, but it felt like he'd been sleeping for twenty years for all the change that happened to his lab. But that wasn't what was getting his attention.

Where the black cauldron had been, was now a glowing light, with three blob-like things in the center, linked by something that resembled handless arms. Hallucinations. Just the thing. But he wasn't hallucinating. He knew scientifically (seeing as the stages hadn't occurred) and deep down in his gut. So…what exactly was this? The radiating light was preventing him from getting a clear view, he couldn't see what exactly _this_ was.

But suddenly, the light disappeared, to reveal…what the fuck? Little girl with distorted shapes; big eyes, big heads, stiff hair, no arms, looked like they had no feet. They were also wearing black robes, exactly like the ones he was wearing. These were _not_ cookies.

And then they spoke.

"G'day, my good sir. May we inquire the time of day?"

British accents? This was weird, deftly weird. Wrong even, on so many different levels. But there was something familiar about them. The accent was so…

And suddenly, an epiphany came to him. He put rum in his cookie mix, inevitably attracting a certain someone, and that someone would taste his cookies contaminating the recipe with that certain someone's _spit_ aka DNA. And these British accents were just the confirmation he needed for his theory.

It couldn't be anyone else. It had to be _him. _Already practiced enough in this area of expertise, he took in an expert deep breath and…

_…the __Powerpuff__ Girls were born._

"LUXORD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


End file.
